


The Dragoon’s Guide to the Culinary Arts

by erlkoenig



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gift Fic, M/M, Possible spoilers up through ShB, Rating is for swearing, light angst and heavy fluff, no beta we die like dragoons using elusive jump near a cliff edge, sorry Alberic Gaius has adopted Estinien now, the Warrior of Light has two hands and so do Aymeric and Estinien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlkoenig/pseuds/erlkoenig
Summary: a series of vignettes through Estinien’s eyes about love, loss and food
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	The Dragoon’s Guide to the Culinary Arts

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to my amazing wife and my own Warrior of Light, Bird. 
> 
> Thank you to Cordia and Leafa for shitposting with me about Estinien’s terrible cooking habits; and to Curu for letting me use her wonderful OCs for my own devious devices. 
> 
> Soundtrack suggestion: I Found (acoustic) by Amber Run

_“_ How are you such an  _ important figure in Ishgardian society  _ when you’re so uncivilized?” Ysayle asks, wrinkling her nose as Estinien cuts another slice of apple with a dagger. 

A dagger that she is certain she saw him skin a rabbit with earlier.

“Hmm?” He, at least, has the grace to finish chewing before answering. “What did I do this time?”

“Everything.” Ysayle rolls her eyes. 

“They’ve stopped inviting him to parties.” Nikusha teases, dropping an armload of firewood. 

Estinien scoffs, tosses the apple core over his shoulder and stretches. “I’ll leave you ladies to make dinner in peace.”

Ysayle opens her mouth to snap at him, but Nikusha cuts her off quickly. “No, trust me we don’t want him to help cook.”

Another scoff. “It’s not that hard,” he says. “Acquire food, apply fire. Easy.”

Ysayle stares after him as he heads over to where Casimir and Alphinaud are scouting around. “Animal.”

——

Estinien shrugs in his starched linen shirt, squirming out of Casimir’s reach as the other elezen chases after him with a coat. “I’m wearing a cravat isn’t that good enough.”

“Please?” Casimir asks, turns those  _ eyes  _ to Estinien and the dragoon knows he’s lost this battle already. “For me?”

“Both of you have seen me in every state of dress and undress already.” But he’s pulling on the coat anyways because it makes Casimir, and while he might not admit it to others, he lives for those moments. 

Casimir adjusts his cravat for him. “Thank you, love.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s an oddly formal affair, the dinner at Aymeric’s home. Estinien knows he’s trying to impress Casimir, and it gives him a sort of whiplash to watch; anyone could see that Casimir is impressed and a little infatuated if they’re all honest with themselves. 

He actually lost a bet over it. That lalafell was a monster, really, though he should have known better to gamble with her. 

_ They’d make a cute couple.  _ He says, then scowls down at his plate. A beautiful power couple, really, and what Casimir is doing with a disgraced former Azure Dragoon is beyond him. 

He moves something green around on his plate and tries to make himself as small as possible. 

Casimir and Aymeric are talking animatedly about anything and everything: politics, gossip, the food itself. 

He moves the greens around again.

——

He’s not entirely sure  _ why _ , but he tries to annoy Gaius van Baelsar every chance he can. They’ve split from the other two hunters for a while, all in agreement that smaller numbers carry less risks. 

It is surprisingly hard to get under the Garlean’s skin. He stolen both his coat and his gunblade on a few occasions and only received a raised eyebrow, a chuckle, and a head shake that, from anyone else, might have been  _ fond.  _

But it’s  _ this  _ that finally makes the man crack.

“Estinien,” he says levelly, watching the elezen like he was a wild, cornered animal. “What are you doing?”

Estinien pulls the end of his lance from the fire and pokes the slightly charred chunk of bread. “Makin’ toast.”

“That’s—-“ Gaius sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. 

“It was stale, it needed flavor.”

“Charcoal isn’t flavor, Estinien.”

Estinien takes a bite of bread, holding eye contact with Gaius. “Yes it is,” he says, mouth full. 

“Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

Estinien growls at that, a low and terrible noise in the back of his throat that makes Gaius take a step back. “Go fuck yourself, Baelsar.”

He takes his lance and burnt dinner and walks into the dark woods around their campsite, leaving Gaius there to puzzle out his reaction alone.

——

He misses Aymeric’s cooking.

He misses a lot of things, really, but he misses good, proper Ishgardian food. The stew is  _ edible,  _ and that’s probably the nicest thing that can be said about it. 

Raynil  _ tried _ , and that’s the worst part of it. There’s nothing here in the First that feels normal, feels like home. It’s all desolate and terrible and by the Fury he misses Casimir and Aymeric. 

“Eat.” Raynil says, muffled behind his mask, but Estinien can hear the threat in it. “Or you’ll die.”

“Because you’ll kill me?”

“That too.”

Estinien sighs, pokes out some sort of root and takes a bite. They could go back to the Chrystarium and see if the Exarch had made any progress with sending them home, or bringing Casimir here, but he’s not sure his heart can take the disappointment if not. 

“This is shit, Raynil.” Min says, flicking his tail. “For once, I agree with Estinien.”

Raynil doesn’t say anything to that, just digs into his food obstinately. The mask blocks the bite and Min laughs loud and manic as Raynil spills lukewarm stew down the front of his armor. 

When Raynil doesn’t immediately reach for his sword, Estinien joins in. 

It feels  _ wonderful,  _ and suddenly the food isn’t so bad.

——

Aymeric half tackles them both before they can even get through the door, tears already streaming down his face as he holds Casimir and Estinien close.

“I thought I would never see you two again.” He says between sobs, and Estinien tries to gently extricate himself while Casimir pulls them closer, trying to comfort. 

“We’re home now.” Casimir says softly. 

Aymeric has a thousand questions and Casimir has a thousand questions, which leaves Estinien to his own devices for a bit. He makes his way to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. 

Voices drift in from the sitting room and he helps himself to the pantry and stove. 

Breakfast is an easy enough thing, even as his hands shake. He nearly drops an egg, and the kettle whistles before he’s ready, startling him almost out of his own skin. 

Eggs, toast, tea, cream—

“Birch syrup.” He says to himself, looking for the little bottle. It’s nearly empty, and he makes a mental note to get Aymeric some more. 

He takes the tray out to the other two, and their eyes light up. 

“Oh good, I’m starving.” Casimir says, already digging in as Aymeric just looks at him like he’s a stranger. 

“I picked up a few new skills in the First.” Estinien says with a shrug, pours himself some tea. “I promise it won’t kill you.”

Aymeric’s eyes shine with tears and Estinien looks away. Aymeric takes his hand gently, squeezes it, then reaches for a plate. 

“I’m glad you’re back.”


End file.
